Richard buys a bus ticket for a desperate mother of three and finds dozens of boxes from her on his doorstep the next day. He has no idea her gift will land him in trouble until his daughter opens one of the boxes.
It was a bright, sunny morning. Richard was engrossed in the song playing on his headphones while he mopped the bus station floors. For the last 10 years, the bus station had been his world.
Suddenly, a voice distracted him. “Excuse me,” it said.
Richard turned around to see a woman, probably 35 years old. She looked frail, and from her red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Richard could sense she was crying not long ago. She held a baby in her arms, and two older children stood beside her.
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“Can I help you with something?” Richard worriedly asked as he removed his headphones.
“I-I need to get to New York. Can you please help me buy a ticket?” she asked tremblingly.
“Is everything OK? You look tense,” he said.
The woman hesitated. “I-I want to escape my husband. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he’s… not a good man. I’ve not been able to reach him for days, and the things he’s said and done… scare me. I just want to go to my sister who lives in New York. I lost my wallet. Please help us.”
Noticing her plight, Richard couldn’t refuse her, although he knew he’d have to let go of the last money he had. He went to the counter and bought the ticket.
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“Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” she sniffled as he handed her the ticket.
“Please take care of your children,” he said.
“Can you give me your address?” she asked.
“Why would you need that?”
“I want to repay you. Please,” she said.
Richard relented, and soon, the bus the woman and her children boarded disappeared down the road.
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Richard finished his shift and went home to his daughter, Amanda. She was all he had after his wife walked out on them. Richard was devastated by his wife’s decision, but he had pulled himself together for his daughter’s sake.
By the age of 10, Amanda had taken on responsibilities far beyond her years. After school, she would tie her hair up in a ponytail and dive into household chores, even helping Richard cook.
In their tiny kitchen, they danced together and tried new recipes. Then, they settled onto the couch by the evening, sharing the tales of their days. That evening was no different. But the next morning was.
Richard was startled awake by Amanda’s voice. “Dad! Wake up!” she exclaimed, shaking his shoulders gently.
He sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. “What is it, sweetie?”
“There’s something odd outside! Come with me!” she insisted, pulling him out of the bed.
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Richard stepped out into the yard to see a dozen boxes. He assumed it was someone’s shipment gone astray, but then he noticed the envelope atop one of the boxes. It had a letter. He ignored that Amanda had already started opening the boxes as he began reading.
“Hi! It’s me, the woman you helped yesterday. I wanted to express my gratitude for your kindness. These boxes hold the possessions I wanted to bring to New York, but I decided to leave them to you so you could sell them and make some good money. All the best.”
Richard was still processing the letter when the sound of shattering porcelain distracted him. He spun around to see Amanda had dropped a vase on the ground. For a moment, he was annoyed at her recklessness. She had broken the woman’s vase!
But then he noticed the sparking object among the porcelain shards. He picked it up. Richard had read somewhere that diamond didn’t fog when you breathed on it. He was shocked to realize the shiny stone was a REAL diamond.
“Oh god! We’re rich!” he exclaimed joyfully, his eyes fixed on the shining gem.
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“We need to return it, Dad!” Amanda skimmed the shipping documents and found the sender’s address. “It’s not ours!”
“Think about the bright future, Amanda! We could send you to a good school!”
“No, Dad! What if we are taking away someone’s last hopes?”
Richard insisted on keeping the diamond, but Amanda talked him into returning it. Richard told her he would, but he had something else on his mind. On the pretext of returning the diamond, he visited an antique shop.
“How can I help you, sir?” the proprietor, Mr. Lambert, asked as Richard approached the counter.
“I wanted to get something appraised,” he replied and placed the diamond on the counter.
Mr. Lambert adjusted the focus of his loupe. “This is a magnificent piece,” he said, examining the stone. “The clarity, the cut…it’s an exception. I’d estimate its value to be at least $100,000. If I may ask, where did you get it?”
Richard’s eyes widened at the estimate, but he quickly composed himself. “Uh, it was… an inheritance,” he said. “So…can you buy it?”
“I think I’ll need to consult a colleague. Can you wait a moment?” Mr. Lambert asked. Richard nodded, and Mr. Lambert stepped away for a call.
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“Good news!” he exclaimed as he returned. “We can proceed with the purchase! Can I take a look?” He extended his hand so that Richard could hand him the diamond. But there was a moment of negligence, and the diamond landed on the floor. Mr. Lambert quickly bent down and picked it up.
“Don’t worry. It’s one of the strongest substances on Earth. It’s definitely not harmed!” he said, taking a look, and returned the diamond to Richard. “I can offer you $10,000!” he said.
“Wait, but you just told me it’s worth ten times that!” Richard argued.
Mr. Lambert explained that he could only offer Richard a fraction of the market value because Richard didn’t have any documents proving the diamond’s origin. Richard asked Mr. Lambert if there was a way they could work it out, but Mr. Lambert was adamant he would offer at most $10,000.
Richard decided he didn’t want the money and drove home with the diamond. But he had a plan. Richard decided to move to another town, make fake documents for the diamond’s origin, and sell it for its full market value. He would need to persuade Amanda, but he’d manage.
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As he arrived home, Richard sensed an eerie silence. “Amanda?” he called out, but there was no response. Usually, Amanda would come running at one call.
Richard sensed something was off. He searched the whole house, but there was no sign of Amanda. He began panicking, wondering where his daughter was, when he noticed a note on the kitchen countertop.
“You have my gem! If you want your daughter back, bring it to the address below.No police or you’ll regret it.”
Richard’s heart sank, and his hands shook. Then his mind raced to the woman he’d met at the bus stop. “My husband isn’t a good man…” Her words kept ringing in his ears. He raced to the kitchen drawer and pulled out the shipping documents. The address mentioned by the kidnapper matched the shipping address.
A chill ran down Richard’s spine. He had no time to lose or doubt if the woman was an accomplice in her husband’s nasty schemes. He drove to the address and found himself in front of an old two-story structure.
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Richard’s heart throbbed in his chest as he approached the entrance. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, which swung open. A man in a dark overcoat appeared in the doorway, aiming his gun at Richard’s temple. He was probably 40 and bore a scar on his left cheek.
“You…Richard?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“Yes, I am. Where’s my daughter?”
“Did you bring what I asked for?” the man asked.
“Yes, I did. Where’s Amanda? I need to see her!”
“All in good time!” grinned the man as he leaned closer to Richard. “First, the diamond.”
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Richard pulled it out from his pocket and raised it in the air. The kidnapper asked him to place it on the table. Richard entered the house and did as instructed.
The man picked up the diamond and examined it. It wasn’t long before his face contorted with fury. “This is glass! Where’s the real diamond?”
Richard was shocked. Then, he recalled the moment when Mr. Lambert had dropped the diamond. Could he have switched the gem?
“You either bring me $10,000 in a few days, or you’ll never hear your daughter’s voice again!” The kidnapper warned him.
Richard had no time to lose and quickly drove to the antique shop.
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“Oh, Mr. Richard! Back so soon?” Mr. Lambert smiled.
“I’m ready to sell the diamond for $10,000. I changed my mind!” he said, but Mr. Lambert refused.
“How about $7,000?” Richard further proposed.
“I’m sorry, but the diamond no longer interests me!” said Mr. Lambert.
Richard realized Mr. Lambert had indeed switched the diamonds. A strange fury gripped him. He landed a strong punch on the expert’s head, causing him to stumble. Then he grabbed a cord from a nearby table and tied the man.
“WHERE IS THE DIAMOND?” he asked angrily. “My daughter’s life is on the line, and you’re playing games?” He raised his fist, and finally, the expert spilled the truth.
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The expert revealed he and the kidnapper were in it together. They were planning on extorting $100,000 from Richard for Amanda’s release. And then it dawned on Richard that the “colleague” the expert had contacted was none other than the kidnapper.
“He lifted the diamond from a billionaire’s mansion! Every cop has been looking for it!”
The expert tried to move away from Richard but stumbled and fell, losing consciousness. Richard didn’t know what to do at first, but then he came up with a cunning plan. First, he took a picture of the unconscious expert. Wasting no time, he called the cops and left a note near the expert. Richard then drove back to the kidnapper.
As the door of the old house swung open, he approached the kidnapper. “I went to the antique shop, but guess what? Your buddy spilled quite a few beans! I know you plotted the kidnapping together.
“And well, turns out you’ve been played as much as me. He has the real diamond in a safe at the shop. I tried to get the combination from him, but things got heated, and he’s no more.”
Richard then showed him the expert’s photo to ensure the man bought his story.
The kidnapper lost his cool. “That prick!” he yelled.
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In a rage, the kidnapper stormed out of the house and sped off to the antique shop. Richard took advantage of the situation, found his daughter, and freed her.
“Dad…I heard the confrontation. Did you really…k-kill someone?” she asked, the tape across her mouth removed.
“No, honey. It was a ruse, a bluff. I had to make him believe it so he’d act recklessly,” Richard said with a smile, trying to comfort her. “But, knowing him, I’d wager he’s about to walk right into a trap. When I called the police earlier, I alerted them to the expert’s involvement, and they were headed to the antique shop.”
Amanda’s eyes widened with realization. “So, he’s going to be arrested?”
“Yes, and you are safe,” Richard said, recalling the note he had left for the cops.
“In an hour, the man who stole the diamond you’re looking for will be here,” it read.
And Richard’s plan worked. The kidnapper and expert were arrested. But there was a strange fear in his heart because he knew he would get in trouble with the law for not going to the cops immediately when he found the diamond. But at least he saved his daughter.
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My Friend Didn’t Believe Her Husband Was Cheating, So I Set Up a Scene to Prove It
When her best friend refused to believe her husband was cheating on her, Nancy was determined to open her eyes. She set up a foolproof trap, but as the plan unfolded, Nancy was unprepared for the explosive consequences.
Alright everyone, Nancy here. Ever had that friend, the one who wears rose-colored glasses thicker than a disco ball? Yeah, that’s Melissa. Now, Melissa’s husband, Victor, is the epitome of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Picture perfect husband on the outside, but on the inside… well, let’s just say his loyalty roams free like a stray dog…
For the past year, whispers about Victor’s little “extracurricular activities” had been swirling around town like tumbleweeds in a dusty desert.
Pub crawls with “mystery women,” extra-long “work nights” that ended way too close to sunrise at that sketchy karaoke bar on Elm Street — the signs were all there, neon bright.
But Melissa? Bless her heart, she clung to the fantasy of their “perfect” marriage like a life raft in a hurricane.
At first, it was kind of cute. You know, the “ignorance is bliss” kind of thing.
But seeing Melissa walk on eggshells around Victor, making excuses for his shady behavior, it started to grate on me. The girl was practically begging to get her heart broken!
Enough was enough.
One gloomy Tuesday evening, armed with a bottle of the strongest wine I could find and a heart full of frustration, I marched over to Melissa’s house. You know that feeling when you just gotta lay it all out, consequences be damned? That’s exactly where I was at.
Melissa opened the door with a bright smile that faltered the second she saw my stormy expression.
“Hey Nancy,” she said. “What brings you here?”
I pushed past her, the wine bottle threatening to topple over in my trembling hand. “We need to talk,” I declared.
Melissa’s smile vanished completely, replaced by a flicker of worry. We settled down on the couch, and I launched into my spiel, laying out all the rumors, the suspicious disappearances, the way Victor’s eyes lingered a little too long on other women.
But Melissa wouldn’t budge and tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, Nancy,” she sniffled. “Victor would never do anything like that. He loves me.”
My frustration bubbled over. “Loves you?!” I practically shouted. “Love doesn’t involve sneaking around and hiding phone calls! Melissa, wake up and smell the coffee — or maybe the cheap perfume clinging to his clothes!”
That was the final straw. Melissa’s face hardened, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger. “This is my marriage, Nancy,” she snapped. “If you can’t be supportive, then maybe you should leave.”
My heart sank.
I hadn’t meant to drive a wedge between them, just to open her eyes. But clearly, logic wasn’t winning this battle.
Defeated, I grabbed my abandoned wine and shuffled out, the slam of the door echoing my failure in my ears.
Sitting alone in my apartment, I knew I couldn’t just leave Melissa like that, living in a fool’s paradise. But how could I break through the wall she’d built around her perfect little world?
An idea, crazy and impulsive, sparked in my mind. Maybe I could give Melissa the undeniable PROOF she needed.
With a deep breath, I grabbed my phone and dialed Victor’s number. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before a smooth, familiar voice answered.
“Hey Nancy, this is unexpected,” Victor said, a hint of surprise lacing his tone.
Ugh, the nerve of this guy! I steeled myself, channeling my anger into a voice dripping with feigned flirtation.
“Hey Victor,” I purred, “Guess what? I got promoted! To celebrate, I’m thinking of having a little ‘get-together’ with a special friend this weekend. And guess who immediately popped into my head?”
Silence. I held my breath, willing him to take the bait.
“Well?” I pressed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Are you coming…?”
Then, a low chuckle traveled through the phone. My stomach clenched. “Well, Nancy,” Victor said, his voice smooth as silk, “I’m always up for a good time. Tell me more…”
The sound of Victor’s chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of disgust and a surge of morbid satisfaction. He’d taken the bait. Now came the tricky part.
“Actually,” I interjected, trying to sound casual, “I was thinking of something a little more… discreet.” I could practically hear the question marks forming in his head. Perfect.
“Discreet, huh?” he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. “What did you have in mind?”
I took a deep breath. This was it. “There’s this new upscale pub downtown,” I said, dropping the name of the very same pub he frequented with his “other women.” “Heard it’s got a private room, perfect for a little… celebration.”
A beat of silence followed. Then, a low whistle came through the phone. “Now that’s interesting, Nancy,” Victor said, his voice a touch huskier. “Are you sure about this? You know, Melissa…”
“Don’t worry about Melissa,” I cut him off. “She won’t know a thing… I promise. It’ll be just you and me.”
There was another pause, longer this time. My heart pounded in my chest. Was he suspicious? Had I blown the whole operation?
Finally, Victor spoke. “Alright, Nancy,” he purred. “You’ve convinced me. Just tell me what time, and I’ll be there… in your arms, darling.”
Relief washed over me so strong I almost dropped the phone. He’d agreed! My gamble had paid off. “Great!” I said, forcing a light tone. “I’ll text you the details later. Just make sure you come alone, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Victor chuckled. “See you then, babe.”
With that, the line went dead. I stared at the phone, elation and dread bubbling in my stomach. I’d set the trap, but now what? Would Melissa actually believe me? More importantly, would she be strong enough to face the truth, however ugly it might be?
With a mischievous grin, I fired off a text to Melissa, apologizing profusely for my outburst the other night.
“Ugh, Nancy,” she replied, her message dripping with annoyance. “Can we talk about this later? I’m swamped right now.”
I wasn’t about to give up. I bombarded her with messages, each one brimming with fake remorse and a desperate plea to meet for drinks.
“Come on, Mel,” I texted, “Let’s just grab a quick drink and clear the air. My treat! This Saturday. Please.”
Finally, on Friday afternoon, I received a one-word reply: “Fine.”
Victory! Saturday arrived. Today was the day I’d expose Victor for the lying, cheating weasel he was. I spent hours primping, slipping into the most elegant dress I could find.
Walking into the upscale pub, I felt completely out of my comfort zone.
As promised, Victor was already there, perched at the bar, nursing a drink on the rocks. His eyes lit up when he saw me.
“Nancy,” he exclaimed, a smooth smile gracing his lips, “you look absolutely… like a goddess.”
I plastered on a sheepish grin. “Thanks, Victor,” I purred, forcing down the wave of disgust rising in my throat. “Mind if I join you?”
He gestured to the empty stool beside him. We settled in, making awkward small talk as the bartender mixed me a drink. Victor kept stealing glances at me, a flicker of suspicion replacing his initial amusement.
“So,” he finally started, his voice laced with curiosity, “what’s with the sudden change of heart, Nancy? You’re usually not one for crowded bars or… well… me.”
Busted. I cleared my throat, mentally scrambling for a convincing story.
“Honestly, Victor,” I confessed, batting my eyelashes for effect, “I’ve been kicking myself ever since the dinner the other night. You were so kind, so attentive… it awakened something in me.”
Victor’s eyebrows shot up. This was it. Time to reel him in.
I leaned closer, “Maybe,” I said, my cheeks burning with shame, “I was a little afraid to act on my feelings before. But hey, life’s too short, right?”
A slow smile spread across Victor’s face. He scanned me from head to toe, his gaze lingering a little too long on certain curves. I felt a wave of nausea roll through me, but I pushed it down. This was all for Melissa.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my purse. A text from Melissa. My heart raced. “On my way,” it read
I quickly typed out a one-line reply: “Come straight to the bar.” Sliding my phone back into my purse, I took a deep breath.
Just then, the pub door swung open and Melissa walked in.
My cue. I threw my arms around Victor’s neck and leaned in for a kiss. “Kiss me, you fool!” I whispered dramatically.
Victor, clearly flustered, hesitated for a split second before returning the kiss. It was a clumsy, awkward peck, but it was enough. I pulled back, a triumphant smile lighting up my face..
“See, Melissa?” I declared, turning towards my friend.
“This is what I’ve been talking about! Your husband’s a complete jerk!”
The smile vanished from Melissa’s face, replaced by a mask of shock and sheer disbelief. Victor, however, sputtered to his feet, his face flushed crimson.
“Melissa, honey,” he stammered, “it’s not what it looks like! She’s the one who—”
“Don’t even try to lie your way out of this, Victor!” I cut him off, relishing the momentary power shift. “The jig is up!”
But before I could launch into a full-blown exposé, Victor whipped out his phone. A sickening feeling of dread crept into my stomach. He pressed a button, and a voice filled the air — my voice. Crystal clear, unmistakable.
“Hey Victor,” the voice purred, “guess what? I got promoted! To celebrate, I’m thinking of having a little ‘get-together’ with a special friend this weekend. And guess who immediately popped into my head?”
My blood ran cold.
The voice on the phone was mine, the exact words I’d used to set the trap. Victor had recorded our conversation. I was caught, my elaborate plan backfiring spectacularly.
“See, honey,” Victor finished, his voice dripping with false sincerity, “I told you she was the one coming on to me. I’m innocent. I just came here for a drink. It was all her.”
Melissa’s face contorted with anger and confusion. She looked between me and Victor, her gaze lingering on the phone in his hand. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.
“NANCY,” Melissa yelled, “is this… TRUE??”
My throat constricted. I wanted to scream, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.
The weight of my actions pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. Shame burned in my cheeks, hotter than any cocktail I’d ever tasted.
“I…” I stammered. “I just… I wanted you to see—”
“See what?” Melissa cut me off, her voice rising.
“See you ruin my marriage with your lies and accusations? You almost made me throw away the best thing that ever happened to me, all on the basis of some twisted suspicion!”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “You call yourself my best friend? This is how you treat me?”
I opened my mouth to apologize, but the words died in my throat. Melissa was right. My misguided attempt at helping had backfired spectacularly. I’d hurt her, betrayed her trust, and all for nothing.
Victor, sensing his advantage, placed a comforting hand on Melissa’s shoulder. “There, there, honey,” he murmured. “Don’t listen to her. She’s clearly jealous of what we have.”
Melissa shot him a watery smile, leaning into his touch. My stomach churned. Had I been so blinded by my suspicion that I’d missed the genuine affection between them? Or was Victor that good of an actor?
“Get out of my life, Nancy,” Melissa yelled. “And don’t you ever contact me again.”
There was no denying the finality in her voice. Tears streamed down my face as I watched Melissa stumble out of the bar with Victor in tow.
A week had passed since that fateful night. The silence from Melissa was deafening. My calls went unanswered, my texts left on read. Social media confirmed my worst fear — I was blocked.
Sitting alone in my apartment, replaying the scene over and over in my head, I felt a wave of self-loathing wash over me. I’d messed up, royally.
So, am I wrong? The answer, unfortunately, is clear. Yes. Yes, I was wrong. Dead wrong.
My intentions, while misguided, may have stemmed from a place of care. But the way I went about it? A complete disaster.
You know, I get it. Looking back, my whole plan to expose Victor was a dumpster fire wrapped in a trainwreck. But honestly, do you think I was the villain here? Sure, I messed up, big time. But Melissa deserved to know the truth, right? Or was I way out of line for meddling? Hit me with your thoughts.
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